Where Puppets Stand
by lye tea
Summary: Face the deceit and break your spine. /Azula x Ty Lee/


**a/n: **This was highly experimental for me. So if something doesn't read right...yeah, I know. Also, this is mild femmslash with a hint of incest. You've been warned. **  
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**Where Puppets Stand**

**1. once**_  
once was enough, for any relationship__  
(so it can die, so another can grow)_

It's static.

It's magnetic.

It's all crashing down in giant waves, hits her hard, smarts across her face. The world is ending, ending in deep-incised, puce-slit bruises and kisses.

"Don't go," Ty Lee says.

And Azula looks at her cruelly and beautifully and full of the world's ugly. "Not a chance."

Once is over, once is just beginning. Break, fall, the adrenaline hitting her between the organs. Seared the skin, through the muscle and into the one. Ossification. Where the puppet stands, bare and stark, and just her. Just Ty Lee.

"But I love you."

"But I don't."

And Azula left, still laughing.

**2. clouds burst and die**_  
over by Sicily, there is a river__  
that runs clear-blue  
winding in between  
a man and a woman  
and all the years suffered, stuffed  
lingering in between_

Now, the window is empty and lonely. And her heart's a-grieving, and her mind's a-swirling with thoughts not her own. Those, Ty Lee thought, were impressions and impregnations Azula inserted. Like a yoke on a cow. Or the bit in a horse's mouth—to be romantic (and pathetic).

Now, she doesn't miss her so much. Just some thoughts (ready to burst and spring from her head) and memories.

Overhead, the clouds are gathering, and rain is coming. She could feel the jolts in the air, corrosive, acidic, and satisfying. Instant gratification.

Like how Azula kissed: sharp, metallic, and in volts.

And broken—

A half-snapped spine, with the soft, white bones poking out. Tragic (out came comedy).

**3. peace & lies**_  
of peace and war__  
war always wins_

_2 Day, 9__th__ month_

War came, came at last. Came out hungry and with a vengeance on its mind.

Peace.

Ty Lee wanted that, felt it dying out, giving up, and wished to hold it close.

"Why are we chasing the Avatar?"

"You're so stupid, Ty Lee. Because he's an enemy of the Fire Nation so he must be captured."

"Oh."

_But why_? Because there was no why. It was just fight or die. No flight, no escape. Like a bird with clipped wings, stuck in a cage and suffocating.

Push, Pull (La and Tui). She's the push, so Azula can be the pull. Leading her, strung up by the strings, a marionette and dangling from atrophied legs and arms—too.

**4. memento mori**  
_keepsakes come in different ways_

"Your father is dead," the messenger said.

"Fine," Azula said.

And Ty Lee asked, curious, "Aren't you sad?"

"No."

Because now, there was no need for pretty lies—tying her down, strapped to a chair and confined. And all of a sudden, Azula's face was next to hers, and Azula's lips bit down on hers.

"What was that for?"

"For you to remember."

_Remember_. And Ty Lee wondered if she was going to die—like Ozai did.

**5. fortuitous, gratuitous**_  
luck was all in the wrist__  
flick and tug  
out came fortunes and lives_

Azula was born lucky. Luckyluckyluckyluuu—

Her hair was perfect and soft, eyes like burnt gold (sulfuric) and glittering. A pair of jewels, like those on a dagger before—

And so was Ty Lee. Lucky. Born with wealth and family and love. _Too much_ love. Sisters and cousins and noise. Chaos, jump (how high?) and reach.

On a day, nondescript (the mundane), she met her and _she_ met _her_. Like a dream (nightmarish and all-too-real). And Ty Lee developed a crush, sweet and innocent, just a little crush. And soon, that didn't die, and Ty Lee was confused. What had happened to all her luck?

Spent, lent, and went. Thrown out the window by her childlike heart and childish hands.

**6. wish**_  
what is faker than a wish?__  
one with all your good intentions_

"You smell like sex."

"I know."

It always ended up with: I know. Ty Lee, She, I know. There was no accusation, no condescension, nothing. Just those words: You smell like sex. And the implied (you're a cheap whore).

A long time ago, Azula once said You-make-it-easy-for-them. And that was true, and that became truer still as she grew. Not that she cared. Sex. Physical, wasted, worthless. A temporary fix—like a drug.

"I hope you're happy."

"I know."

"Acting this way. Tell me, Ty Lee, does it make you feel important? Does it make you feel like you're special?"

"Shut up."

Azula laughed. "I'm so sorry. That was uncalled for, wasn't it? Oh well, too bad, I already said it. So answer me."

"Go away."

"If you say so."

Fake like a doll, fake like her insides barely covered up. Tissue-thin, lambent, burnt up and charred. A life was a life—even rotted. And now, all she could do was wait for the scavengers to appear. Devour her whole, dead-down—

Waiting.

**7. even now it's not so quiet**_  
the dead man snored long into the night__  
thunder crashed  
lightening shook  
and even now  
it's not so quiet—never was_

Welcome to hell. If there was a hell.

Not that she knew of. Her and purgatory were long-time acquaintances,_lovers_. In perdition, in limbo, time stood still. Not a factor, not a chance. She felt herself stretch in all directions and none. A view.

A view from nowhere.

"Where they drowned,

A_cosmic_ death,

Glowing and fair,

A_romantic_ death."

"Poetry is stupid."

Ty Lee sighed, "That's because you don't know how to appreciate it. Part Two."

"Oh, stop it, Ty Lee. Stop with that stupid talk. What's poetry got for us?"

_What's anything done for us_? Nothing. Life made, life fade, done by your hands and them alone. Soft fingertip pads and long, muted veins. Nothing else.

There were screams at night, from the dead (and the living).

And in all this time, there was never a moment of silence. Because the dead never really die. Their blood stains—eternal—never forgave, never would. Good. That Ty Lee could accept. Reality.

(Tangible and tearing.)

**8. a long road home**_  
Lake Laogai is now gone to dust__  
and past this dust, by the once-before water  
a road  
to home, to moribund  
to safe_

When the war was over—when things turned normal (again)—When The War Was Over.

Ty Lee will have herself a house. Small and cozy, not like the imperial villas choking on their own walls. A house by the water (lake, ocean, river, either one did good) not surrounded and hated inside walls. No Ba Sing Se.

They will fail, but she won't be. Mai's gone renegade, _apostatized_. Chased after Zuko and with Them: The Avatar & Gang.

Azula was furious, but Ty Lee couldn't care less. She knew that _that_ would happen (she knew things before) and knew that they would lose. An impossible war. _How could you battle the gods and expect to win_? She had asked. Damn-you're-so-stupid.

Naïve. Not Stupid.

Ty Lee knew, just like Azula never will.

So, when the war was over, she's going home.

"We will win, Azula, I'm sure of it," she smiled brightly, full of infinite cheer and false.

**9. casuistry (sophistry)**_  
tell me something in fallacies__  
and duplicities  
something perfidious, something dangerous  
so I can pretend  
so you can believe  
that things aren't over—not by long_

Ty Lee saw something she shouldn't have the other day, and now, her mind's gone crazy with dread and fear.

_Azula and Zuko sitting in a tree…k i s s i n g. _

In neat little rinds, in neat little roots, Azula and Zuko in a tree. Entwined and together, without Her. Without Her, Ty Lee. By the sea (where she can see), in pleas on her knees. Something horrid, something _awful_, something she's gonna forget no matter what.

And at night, she saw them together (forever). His face against her shoulder and soft sobs coming out open lips. She leaned in and kissed him. "I love you, Zu-Zu. Loved you best, loved you _most_."

Most.

Like a sting, like a slap, (like a sing, fermented, over-done wine). Auld Lang Syne. Gone those days when fantasies roamed. Now, she stood there all alone.

_Most_.

**10. to shrive, to connive**_  
loyalties were all that mattered in the end__  
(but ending is beginning)_

Here, before fire and brimstone (and delicate lilies and floating boats), she met a spirit. Named Koh.

And Koh said, "This is where your life ends. For all your loyalties, you have suffered for nothing."

"But Mr. Face-Stealer—"

He laughed. Stroked her hair, brutally, with his pincer-hands. A fat, rolling centipede. "I won't steal your face. I no longer have that power. When you make a bargain with the devil and the devil loses, you lose too. But really, you must go on. Your life has ended. You are _dead_."

"But where is Azula?"

"Loyalties! How sweet and useless they are. If it makes you feel any better, she is dead too. Now, shut up and walk before I rip out your heart. I can still do that, you know."

And Ty Lee did so, because she must keep her heart (keep it intact and virginal for Azula—to claw).

The path ran in all four directions, to the Four Gates of the Spirit Realm. She came from the east (east for beginning, east for ferocity un-repent, un-_meant_). And along these paths sprawled endless water. And in these water, there were girls—white and stiff, dead sprits. Puppet girls, puppet lives.

"Hello," Ty Lee called out to one. Bent down and touched the silk, gliding on crystal water. Icy cold.

"Are you—


End file.
